The BAU: Lost In London
by sparkletasia
Summary: Due to a strike at the airport, the BAU are unable to fly home from their case in London as planned. It's only a weekend... just how much trouble could they get into?
1. Prologue

The BAU: Lost in London

From: jjareau

To: eprentiss, dmorgan, sreid, drossi, ahotchner, ladypenelope

By now I'm sure you're all aware that an unusual case has come to us, and that taking it involves us travelling to London for a week or so. If due to death, injury, or some other _viable_ excuse you cannot make it, please let me know asap. Otherwise, this has your flight details attached, and I'll see you tomorrow at 9 am.

JJ.

*

From: jjareau

To: estrauss

I'm sure you'll be glad to know that the case has been solved with the help of the Metropolitan Police, and the unsub has been apprehended. However, due to an unexpected baggage handlers strike, the team and myself are unable to fly home without incurring extra expense until Monday, instead of tomorrow (Saturday) as planned. We're all willing to use our vacation time to cover it, and will be back in the office by Tuesday.

Sincerely,

Jennifer Jareau.

*

JJ hit send on her Blackberry, zapping the message off to Virginia. Well, that was one problem taken care of at least. But that lead her to the bigger one in her mind. How _were _the team of profilers

going to spend a weekend in London?


	2. In Which Morgan is Accosted

**Chapter One: In Which The Case is Wrapped, and Morgan is Accosted**

JJ turned to face the team, tucking her phone away in her jacket pocket. "Well, I've dealt with Strauss, so we're free to leave as soon as Hotch gets ba-" She was interrupted by the door swinging open and the man in question striding through towards them. The team rose to their feet slowly, exhausted by the harrowing case that they'd just closed. You could see it etched into their faces, and feel it in the fog that seemed to surround them.

Hotch shook hands with the man he'd been talking to, thanking him for all his cooperation. "Okay, the police can take it from here. Let's go." Nodding to the officer, the six of them followed him out of the building, and into the frigid air.

Reid let out a gasp as the wind whipped his hair around his face. Born and bred in Las Vegas, the cold was something that the genius had never quite managed to wrap his (overly large) mind around. The fact that he had managed to mislay his coat earlier in the week wasn't helping his general temperament, and therefore Reid wore three scarves and two jumpers instead. The rest of the team, whilst better dressed for the elements, weren't exactly enjoying the freezing weather either, it had been rather a point of contention all week. As they trudged up the street, heading for their hired SUV, Morgan shouted above the noise of the traffic.

"Drinks?"

There was a chorus of agreement.

*

Garcia (clad in purple checked pyjamas) was racing down the hotel corridor, dragging both Emily and JJ by their hands.

"Let's go, let's go!"

"You know, I don't think they're going to be okay with this..."

"Shh, have faith in my powers of persuasion Emily!"

"Guys... we went past their room."

"I said I had powers of persuasion, not location!"

Eventually finding the door that she was looking for, she gave the other two a stern look and ordered them to "Stay" before she released them. Knocking on the hotel door, she grinned. It had been a tough week on all of them, and this, this was just what the doctor ordered.

Morgan peered out.

"Now, I'm not opposed to opening the door to three pretty ladies in pyjamas, but what brings you here?"

"You flatter me angel cakes. Now, I don't think we've done enough drinking, so we're going to have a little pyjama party. We have supplies," (Emily held up a bag of drinks, and JJ a bag of snacks), " but now we need a room. So move over boys, because as of now, you have company!" Tired and mildly tipsy, Morgan didn't even question her, just stepped aside and held open the door.

"After you ladies."


	3. In Which A Mini Bar Takes A Beating

Spencer Reid was used to dealing with perplexing situations, but he was having a hard time fathoming just what JJ, Emily and Garcia were doing in his and Morgan's room. The reason wasn't important right now. What _was_, was that he was trapped in the bathroom in his underwear, and he'd accidentally left his ratty Caltech shirt that served as a pyjama top on the bed. _Damn it! _He thought to himself. _Come on, _he chided himself. _Improvise! There must be something I could use..._

*

Emily was unpacking the various bottles she'd brought onto the desk, when she heard a door opening. Spinning quickly to see what she missed, she caught a glimpse of what look like a sprinting Reid wrapped in a...what was that? A shower curtain? He turned a furious tomato, grabbed something, and turned tail and fled back to the bathroom.

The team froze for a second, nobody_ quite_ sure what they'd just witnessed. Confusion hung in the air, and slowly the giggles began to rise, almost, but not quite hitting the surface, not quite let loose, out loud.

A blushing Reid bedecked in a threadbare t-shirt and shorts slowly stepped out of the bathroom.

The dam broke.

Hysterics rose and filled the hotel room in the giddy manner of the bubbles in fizzy drinks. Tears streaming down their faces, clutching each other for support, JJ and Garcia fell backwards onto the bed. Emily caught Morgan's eye and the pair erupted into even more laughter. This carried on for several minutes, but felt more like an eternity to Reid (who was now so red that Emily was concerned for his health). Finally, the four calmed down, letting loose the odd hiccup.

"It wasn't _that_ funny." said Reid in a most indignant manner, the violent blush beginning to calm slightly.

"Man... what was that?" Morgan asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Forgot my shirt..."the lanky doctor muttered.

Emily couldn't help but see the flaw in the logic in this. "So use the towel?"

Reid's mouth dropped open, brain working overtime to think a response.

"I'm err- I, I mean to say that is, of course I, hmm, um. You see," He paused. Nothing came.

"Alright. I didn't think of that." The laughter began again, but less raucously then last time. "What are you all doing in here anyway?" JJ waved the snacks , and Reid's attention was caught. "Are they... M&Ms?"

The party resumed.

*

"I have never... gotten a parking ticket."

"That's because you drive like a 92 year old Reid."

"Just because I'm not reckless like _some_ people!"

"Guys, break it up. Okay, all those jailbirds with tickets to their names... drink!"

"Can't Garcia."

"WHY?"

"No more."

"How can there be no more? I bought four bottles!"

"It has been three hours Em'ly..."

"Woah..."

"You're all missing the point. What do we do NOW?"

"It's too late to go buy anymore, and the bar's shut. Maybe it's time to call it a nigh-"

"BAD JJ."

"Fine. But what do all you drunkards have planned?"

"Not drunk. Tipsy. Very slightly tipsy, as are you."

"Morgan... I think we're trashed."

"OW! What was that?"

"It's a mini cupboard... what's in it Spence?"

"MORE."


	4. In Which Strauss Gets Stressy

**Chapter Three: In Which Our Team are Hung-over and Hung Up On**

JJ, a light sleeper, was woken by the furious vibration of her Blackberry. Reaching into her pocket to turn off the obnoxious piece of technology, she stopped. Where was she? London. Right. In the hotel. On the floor? Weird.

Sitting up a little, she stared groggily around the plush hotel room. Her arm was imprinted with the pattern of the carpet... how long had she been here? More importantly, and still unanswered, why was she here? Unsteadily, the dishevelled blonde climbed to her feet, gaining a real view of the room.

Huh. So that was why.

Garcia was lying, star-shaped, in the middle of Derek's bed. The man himself had been relegated to the corner of it. Emily was curled in a messy heap in the corner of Reid's bed, and Spence was slumped against a wall. All of them were fast asleep, as the cacophony of snoring proved. Empty bottles littered the room, and the remains of the M&M fight coated the place. As if to correlate with her thoughts, one slipped absently from JJ's hair, bouncing on the thick carpet.

The blackberry buzzed once more. Answering it in one smooth motion, she spoke in hushed tones,

"Agent Jareau."

"It's Hotch, where are you? Strauss is livid, she's tried to call you several times apparently."

Shit. JJ checked the screen, seven missed calls. 10 am? Shit.

"I apologise sir, I'll get straight on it."

"Don't panic, it won't kill her. Do me a favour though?"

"Of course."

"Go gently with the others when you wake them up. I get the feeling that there will be severe headaches all round. You guys had quite the party last night..."

Great. Now she'd missed calls, woken up late, and the boss had sprung them all acting like college kids.

"Again, I apologise-"

"JJ. I'm glad you all let off some steam, you needed it. Just don't ever let Garcia and Emily sing again. Ever."

"Won't happen again sir."

"See you shortly."

*

Morgan had been hit over the head with a crowbar. That was obviously the only explanation for the amount of pain he found himself in currently. He'd sit up, and find himself in hospital. It was the only rational explanation.

He moved an inch, and let out a groan. Okay. No sitting up. That worked. Cracking an eyelid, he gasped at the sudden impact of the bright light. As the world slowly came into focus once more, he made out that there was a person, probably JJ, standing over him.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead."

"Who did it?"

"Did... what?"

"Hit me."/

"...I'm sorry?"

"Don't play with me JJ. Who hit me with the crowbar?"

"Morgan, there is a distinct possibility of you having alcohol poisoning, but no crowbar was involved."

Ergh. This was a _hangover_? Goddamn... How much had he DRUNK? Memories of last night came rushing back. The game of I Never, the piggy back race (him and Reid versus Emily and JJ), JJ telling every bad joke in the book and...

Nope. He wouldn't relive Emily and Garcia's rundown of various show tunes for all of the aspirin in all of the world.

"Fun night, hey?" he croaked to JJ, before stumbling to the bathroom.

*

Hotch was sitting in the dining room with Rossi, when suddenly the doors crashed open. In direct contrast to their usual sleek, coordinated glide, the team trudged in in a sort of clump formation, yawning and looking generally untidy. He turned to Rossi, and the two shared a quick snigger before standing to greet their (worse for the wear) colleagues.

As the team slumped down around the table, JJ's blackberry began to vibrate viciously once more. Hotch saw that as she answered it, she paled several shades. _Probably has something to do with the high pitch yelling emanating from the other end._ She began to speak, but obviously in vain as she never managed to get further than 'Ma'am' . Hotch wondered what the cause of all the fuss was, when the media liaison slammed the phone down onto the table.

Four pairs of eyes winced at the loud noise.

"Strauss just hung up on me. We're breaking protocol apparently, but she didn't feel the need to inform me of it, apparently, until NOW. So she rants and raves like a maniac, and then CUTS ME OFF." JJ was pink in the cheeks by now. "I take a fair share of crap from her. I take MORE than my fair share of crap from her. She does _not_ get to CUT ME OFF."

Four faces were scrunched in pain from the yelling.

"Who does she think she is? I do her bidding. I get my work done, I do the _best _I can. And still, this, this, this WOMAN thinks that she can walk all over me. Well NOT anymore!" With that, she stalked off to get some breakfast, banging her chair back into place.

Four groans at the continued yelling and banging.

Hotch turned to Rossi.

"Off to a good start, hey Dave?"


	5. In Which There Is A Spot Of Blackmail

**Chapter Four: In Which There is a Spot of Blackmail with Breakfast**

Garcia, who seemed to be dealing with her hangover the best, looked mutinous. Her sparkle lined brown eyes were narrowed, and the trademark red pout was tightly pursed. Rossi was frankly rather afraid of her at that moment, well, more afraid than usual. You don't mess with a woman who has the power to wipe you off the map.

"That is _it_! It's bad enough that Strauss terrorises you all as much as she does, but this is a new low for her!" Wild eyed, she started rooting through her handbag. "Well, this time, she's going to pay. Because you guys? Are my babies. And nobody puts one of MY babies in the corner!" Wrenching a bedazzled rainbow PDA from the depths of the neon yellow bag, she began tapping the keys in a most violent fashion.

Rossi surreptitiously leaned over towards Reid.

"What's she doing?"

"I, ah, I believe she's sending an email."

"Saying what?!"

Garcia began to speak without looking up or interrupting the flow of her typing.

"Gossiping isn't polite boys. Rest assured, I know what I'm doing. I have friends in high places."

*

For what felt like the ninety-fifth million time that day, JJ's phone let out a sharp _buzz_ in her pocket. Sighing, she opened the email Strauss had just sent her...

*

From: estrauss

To: jjareau

I apologise for my actions this morning. I was out of line and unprofessional. I hope you will forgive me.

E. Strauss

P.S Please inform Ms Garcia that there will be no need to release those files.

*

"Garcia, how did you do this?"

"The Strauss, I mean uh, Strauss apologising? Unheard of."

"Baby girl, what strings did you pull?"

Garcia leaned back into her chair, and tucked a stray hair behind JJ's ear. A wicked grin crept up her face.

"Well, I couldn't let her get all uppity in my Jayje's face like that, so I decided a spot of... _reminding_ was in order. You may not be aware, but I have the pleasure of having the best of the bureau's CCTV forwarded to me regularly."

Seeing the paling of a few faces around the table, the grin widened and she continued. "Well, our dear boss lady has a few that she doesn't want the rest of you seeing, and so I simply informed her that if she stepped over my pretty pink line again, they'd find their way into the email inbox of every federal employee in the state. And that, my most fuzzy of friends, is that."

Morgan shook his head in disbelief. She was like a wildfire that girl, or a tornado. Both completely and utterly uncontrollable and unstoppable. A wild, rainbow, tech-savvy tornado. He looked at the group, despite the headaches they were all laughing, smiling, and eating like there was no tomorrow. They really had needed this, especially after that last case... he shuddered involuntarily at the thought of it. He didn't need to think about it now.

Suddenly, Derek was brought back to reality by the team standing up to leave, and finalising plans for the day. As they all headed out, he hooked his arm around Garcia's shoulders, and whispered into her ear.

"Sweet thing, now I know you're going to tell me what those screenshots were of..."

"Let's just say that I can _never_ look at Agent Anderson the same way."


	6. In Which Rossi Gets Fierce

**Chapter Five: In Which Rossi Gets Fierce, and Issues Are Addressed.**

Everyone had gone back to their rooms to finish off getting ready, and they'd agreed to meet by the doors in half an hour. The general plan was to hit Oxford Street, which wasn't too far from where they were staying, and then maybe take the tube down to Covent Garden for lunch and a little exploration.

Emily, who could be dressed and ready to go in ten minutes flat (a routine perfected by the fact that she didn't believe in getting up earlier than you had to), was sprawled out on her bed in front of the generously sized flat screen on the wall. She was excited, because her a rerun of her favourite show was on, and she had just enough time to catch the end.

What she hadn't bargained on, was the sudden rap on the door. Who was it? Obviously one of the team, probably one of the girls, but couldn't it _wait_? Sighing loudly, she turned toward the door and yelled out that it was open. Needless to say, Emily had not expected to see Rossi sticking his head round the door.

"Hey, mind if I come in?"

"Oh, course not. Just let me turn this off-"

"Is that Project Runway?"

Emily was three things. She was confused at the fact that Rossi was checking on her, a little irritated from having her fashion fix interrupted, and more than a little shell shocked that Rossi knew what Project Runway _was_.

"Uh... yes."

"Can I come in?"

"Sure." She scrambled upright, so that she was perched onto the end of her bed. "What's up?"

Rossi entered the room, and pointed at the chair as if to ask permission to sit. Emily nodded profusely, and he took a seat.

"I, and this stays between us, _love _this show."

Emily now felt like she had always imagined Alice had upon entering Wonderland. Disorientated, bemused, and insatiably curious.

"You do?" One eyebrow shot up before she could stop it. Seeing her disbelieving face, Dave chuckled to himself a little.

"Y'know, that's exactly what my niece said. Can't help it, this old timer appreciates a good cut or colour. Preferably both. I've got family in Milan, guess it's rubbed off. Anyway Prentiss, why are you watching? I've never heard you mention your secret passion for fashion."

"Well, I guess it's my 'guilty secret'." Prentiss was utterly unsure as to why she was telling Rossi any of this. Probably because he had just opened up to her? She had always gotten on well with the man, both newcomers at the same time, she saw him as a fairly avuncular figure. Albeit one that carried a gun.

"I mean, I grew up in some of the most fashion famous countries, Italy, France, I lose track. It's just stuck with me." They both grinned, and spent the next ten minutes wrapped up in the program, with the occasional muttered opinion. As the credits rolled, Emily turned to Rossi.

"Secret fashion obsession aside, why are you here Dave?"

"I... I just realise that the last case was hard on you for reasons that the others don't know about. I know kids are a difficult subject for you especially, and call me a sap," he shrugged, "but I just needed to see that you were okay."

Emily froze. She had been blocking out the events of the last case with everything she had, building every wall, every defence she could. They shattered, leaving her nothing but wreckage and ghosts. The last case... she couldn't fathom it. But there was a little voice inside her head that kept nagging at her, that she had worked so hard to box up, hide away.

_What makes YOU any better?_

She jumped a little as a tear seared her cheek, boiling madly compared to the ice that filled her. Rossi came over to sit beside her, proffering a tissue.

"Emily, I know this is hard. But you can't hide this stuff away forever, or it'll eat you alive. I'm here if you need to talk, okay? Promise me you won't let this swallow you."

Shaking slightly, she took the tissue, and nodded.

"That's good. Now remember, I'm only a door away." She nodded, and he smiled slightly. As he opened the door, he turned back to her.

"Prentiss?" Emily looked up at him.

"Stay fierce." With that, he quietly shut the door.


	7. In Which The Boys Are Back In Town

_**Author's Note-**__ I would just like to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favourites, alerted, messaged, read, anything. I appreciate it so much! I won't be able to update until next week as I'm going away and won't have internet (this was also the reason that there were no review replies for the last two chapters. Sorry!). And if you are on the CBS Criminal Minds boards, you might uh, recognise a couple of things in here ;) _

_Much gratitude and cookies,_

_Sparks :D_

**Chapter Six: In Which The Boys are Back In Town**

Derek waved to the women, and watched them saunter up the street before turning to Hotch, Reid and Rossi. Hotch was staring at a group of women who seemed to be giggling to each other. They were some kind of group, Morgan decided, as they all seemed to be wearing shirts emblazoned with 'The 4-H Club.' Whatever _that_ was. He chose this moment to go pour over the map with Reid, and so missed Hotch grinning at the star struck ladies, but he caught him slipping them a wink. Hotch winked in London? _ This place just gets weirder._

Noticing that they needed a plan of action, as their huddle was interrupting the flow of the street(and incurring some wrathful mutters about 'bloody tourists') Morgan piped up, "How about we go get a coffee, and think about what we could do?"

A chorus of agreement met this idea, and so he began looking around for a coffee shop.

"Aha, we've something called the 'Red Panda's House of Coffee. Will that do?" Not waiting to see if anybody had any objections, he turned in the direction of the cafe. A voice quivered behind him.

"Oh God. Not again!" Morgan did a one eighty shift.

"Reid? Reid! What's up?"

But the younger man didn't seem to hear him, being transfixed by something, or someone in the distance. Derek craned his neck, but he couldn't pinpoint just what had Reid so horrified.

"Of course. Here! Why didn't I _think?!_ They're coming. Oh God. Not again!" and with that, he turned tail and fled into the nearest shop.

Hotch and Rossi shared the same expression, a mixture of confusion and concern.

"Maybe we should go-"

"Excuse me?" A voice interrupted Hotch. A female voice? The men turned to see a woman with jet black hair and immaculate make up looking up at them intently. "Hi, my name is Laurel James, and I was wondering if you could give this to your friend." She gestured in the direction that Reid had sprinted in, and held out a vivid purple business card to Morgan. He glanced at it briefly, and tucked it in his pocket without really reading it, more concerned with the whereabouts and behaviour of Reid.

Rossi leaned towards the stranger.

"Excuse me, Ms James was it?" She nodded curtly. "Who exactly... are you?"

"Look, I've got to go. Just pass on my card and tell him that we're _very _interested". As an afterthought, she added, "Please." With that she gave them a glare that almost rivalled Hotch's, and walked off, sucked almost instantly into the bustling crowds.

"Well that was mildly disturbing. Let's go find Reid."

*

Eventually they found him skulking in the shoe section, and dragged him off to the coffee house. Hotch quickly ordered, and they sat in the window, sinking into the plush crimson chairs.

"Want to tell us what that was all about Reid?"

"Uh, it's nothing Sir. Really."

"I hardly think being practically petrified by some woman pursuing you in the street qualifies as nothing man."

"She was a woman on a mission Reid. Care to enlighten us now? Seeing as we fended her off for you and all."

"Really guys, just forget about it. It's nothing. I was just shocked that they found me agai- I mean, it's nothing."

"Again? What the hell is going on here?" Morgan was utterly confounded by the mornings events. What was Reid's deal? Since when was being hunted down in the streets by women in scary heels a regular occurrence for the doctor?

It was almost as if a light bulb came on in his head. Morgan started rifling through his pockets, searching for the slip of violet card that he knew was in there.

"Fine, you don't want to tell us what she wanted? We'll find out for ourselves, here it is!" He threw the business card down onto the table. Spencer gulped, and his chestnut eyes widened. He made a grab for it, but Morgan was too fast for him. He cleared his throat, and began to read out the card.

_Artsy & Sparks Models_

_A hub for the freshest fashion faces_

Reid was the same colour as his chair. Hotch and Rossi had been stunned into silence. Derek had one eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"So, Mr Model..."

"Shut up."

"Can I have some fashion tips? Or am I just not 'fresh' enough?" He snickered, and Reid shot him a dark look.

"Modelling Reid? Seriously?" Hotch was looking even more disturbed than when they'd been approached by Ms James.

The genius squirmed in his seat. Looking very intently at the floor he muttered,

"They just find me. Ever since I was about seventeen, I've run into a couple a year! I don't understand it."

"You've never been tempted just to try it?"

Reid was almost boring a hole in the floor with his stare, and said nothing.

"Good God... you have!"

Spencer Reid looked like he may be on the point of spontaneous combustion.

"I needed some money to pay for college! Three doctorates don't come cheap. So I signed up for one agency, and did some part time for a year. It's not a big deal!"

The looks on the other three agent's faces rather contradicted that last statement. Reid finally dragged his eyes from the floor and glanced at Morgan.

"I'm never going to hear the end of this am I?"

The fact that Morgan replied with a snicker said it all really.


	8. In Which Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

_Author's Note- Hey guys! Sorry It's been a bit of a wait for the update, I've been camping for the last week. This chapter's a bit of fun, but keep checking back because there's a whole lot in the pipeline! Reviewers, I adore you. CBS boardmates, I adore you. Criminal Minds, I adore you. Readers, I adore you. Lots of adoration to go round. _

_Sparks _

**Chapter Seven: In Which Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.**

"Alright, just one more. Can you throw the green top over in the other size please?"

Garcia rolled her eyes. Despite the fact that she really should know better by now, somehow she was in this position once again. Silently, she berated herself. Shopping with JJ was a nightmare at the best of times, but without back up it was hellish.

_Damn it Emily, hurry up and get back here._

As she chucked the pale shimmery shirt over the changing room curtain, Penelope glanced at her (Minnie Mouse) watch once more. Emily really should have been back now, they'd left her in a little art shop down the street, while her and JJ had gone on to this little boutique they'd spotted. She didn't really blame Prentiss for ducking out, JJ's inability to shop was well known. A sharp witted, decisive woman in most other aspects of life, the media liaison was reduced to a second guessing, dithering wreck by the very idea of shopping. Recalling the time that she'd gone grocery shopping with JJ, Garcia shuddered. Never, _ever_, again.

The transformation was complete, JJ was now at the stage of having gone through at least a dozen outfits, but had talked herself out of each of them (although they'd nearly all looked gorgeous on her). Then, once they were back on the hanger, she'd begin to list their pros, try them on again, and lather, rinse, repeat. Wars had been solved in less time than it took JJ to buy new jeans.

Emily walked back into the room, and Garcia practically fell at her feet and kissed them she was so glad for the woman's return.

"She still in there?"

"Wild horses couldn't drag her out."

Emily groaned. This was very, very bad. This was rapidly turning into a repeat of the department store debacle, and Emily was _still_ barred from there after that. It was okay, Garcia had sent them a particularly nasty Trojan virus parasite type thing ( she had tuned out a little whilst the team's techie explained it all) and that had made her feel better. What it hadn't fixed was the fact that Emily now had to disguise herself in order to go in there, a fact which had caused the group hysterics when her and JJ had told them of that particular weekends antics.

Garcia, potting the vacant expression on her colleagues face, snapped her fingers. "Back to reality missy, we've got a problem to solve. How do we extract Indecisive Barbie from the changing room?"

"We can't pull the fire alarm again, that barely worked last time."

"Plus, the whole fining thing... not so keen. Not again. Scream something about a gas leak?"

"... Like she'd notice, she's totally out of it. Call her and pretend to be Strauss?"

"Caller id. Duh. Em, twenty first century. Twenty first century, Emily. I'm glad you two finally met each other, I'm sure you could be great friends."

"Alright smart mouth, what've you got?"

"Dazzling wit and fantastic hair?"

Emily rolled her eyes. Biting her lip, she ran through possible solutions in her head. Simple problem solving, that was all this was, logic. She waited, but ...nothing. Apparently logic was on holiday too.

"Escape plan C?"

"As much as I'd be all over that at home, I don't think we can abandon her in a foreign country. I mean, not unless she decides she needs shoes."

"Urgh. _Fine_. What do you suggest then, o ethical one?"

"Emergency procedure six."

Sly grins slid up both of their faces, and Emily nodded in agreement. She'd forgotten about six entirely, but it would certainly do the trick. Well, they hoped it would any way.

Garcia walked out into the middle of the shop floor, right by the counter. Quickly she bought the green top that was clearly JJ's favourite, as she'd gone back to it four times, and stashed it in her bag. Looking very carefully at the shop assistant, she placed a finger to her lips. The young woman behind the counter looked puzzled, but nodded in return.

Penelope placed herself on the floor, with one leg (clad in purple spider web tights and a hot pink high heel) bent awkwardly.

"Ow! Help! Guys?! My ankle!"

Emily and JJ burst forth from the changing rooms, and Garcia noted that JJ was luckily wearing the outfit she had arrived in. Perfect.

The blonde knelt down to look at Garcia's ankle. Emily sprung, lifting her up in a fireman's hold and legging it out of the boutique before JJ had a chance remember her self defence class tactics. Garcia stood up, and apologised to the shop assistant, who's eyebrows were higher up their forehead than she'd previously thought possible. Swinging the door emblazoned with the name of the shut, she joined the other two.

JJ's eyes were narrowed.

"Y'know, one day you really _are_ going to hurt yourself, and I shan't believe you."

"Whatever." With that, she handed JJ the bag. "Now can we go find the guys? I've just texted Morgan the coordinates of where to meet us. To the tube!"


	9. In Which There Is A Turn For The Worse

_an- Well, it certainly has been a while hasn't it! I really hope I haven't put people off with the stupidly long gap. I am sorry! Life has been a little crazy, and this chapter just didn't want to happen. It's short and not my best work, but I really wanted to just get posting on this again. Reviews and constructive criticism are so welcomed it's not even funny. Now without further ado, enjoy!_

**Chapter Eight: In Which There Is a Turn for the Worse**

Reid blinked. It appeared that he had just stumbled into a cave. Only, it was a neon green cave, with fluorescent pink, marshmallow shaped, chairs scattered everywhere. A neon green, marshmallow chair strewn cave, lined with cupcakes in every size, shape, flavour and colour.

So Garcia had chosen the meet up spot then.

Blinking again, trying to get used to the change in the light, he shuffled over to greet the others (he'd gotten distracted by a magician on the corner of the Piazza).

"Pull up a chair young sir, and join us won't you?" Grinning, Reid sat down and whispered to Prentiss.

"You survived then?" She shot a glare that could freeze any volcano towards him, but before Emily could make a suitably spiky retort, Hotch returned to the table wielding a tray weighed down with enough coffee and cupcakes to satisfy even the BAU. Waving away all offers of reimbursement, their boss dished out the respective orders before raising a mug in toast.

"To us!"

Mutters of 'hear hear' and such followed, before they all clinked overly caffeinated beverages.

*

An hour or so passed by in a flurry of cake crumbs and chatter. They paid and left, before browsing through the market for a little while. The sky was beginning to turn the misty shade of blue that means dusk is approaching, and as the wind kicked their scarves playfully around the team's faces, the talk turned to plans for the evening.

"There's a pretty cool art gallery a couple of stops over…"

"Emily, I would rather shove my foot up my own a-"

"Okay! Consider your point taken. Any other suggestions?"

"What about a little game of football? There's bound to be parks around here somewhere."

"Morgan, I would rather shove my foot up YOUR a-"

"Alright you two!" Garcia moved between the two bickering agents. "Now what about a little karaoke?"

The team winced at the memory of the show tune sing-off the night before. Hotch, who had heard the entire thing through the all too thin wall, felt that now was the time to step in and save the situation.

"Take-out and movies?"

Thankfully everybody agreed, and plans were made. The group of intrepid crime fighters began to make their way back to the tube station, and crisis was averted. Hotch breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God for all those negotiation lessons.

*

Reid and Garcia had been assigned the task of choosing the movies and grabbing snacks. _Well_, Reid mused to himself, _I was present when the movies were picked anyhow._ Garcia had taken it upon herself to inject some fun into their lives, and had simply thrust her choices at him. Reid of course had seen neither ('Shaun of the Dead' and '500 Days of Summer') but he trusted Garcia's judgement. Well… most of the time.

They turned into the small convenience store (or 'newsagents' as he had heard Londoners refer to it) and he looked forward to getting more input in the snack choices. Although they had been given the order that if someone didn't pick up marshmallows and chocolate for Rossi, heads would roll. The man had been suffering s'more cravings lately for some strange reason.

Penelope had rushed off with a basket, filling it up with unknown confectionary, and Reid made to follow her when suddenly he felt something very cold and all too familiar pressed against the back of his head.

"Nobody moves, or say good bye to skinny boy here."


	10. In Which We Have A 'Situation'

_A/N- Hello! Sorry about the slight delay between chapters, but it's a lot better than the three months before that! I am truly grateful to everyone who is sticking with this story, and for all my reviews. I try to reply to most of them, and I just love reading them! They're my favourite kind of email :D A language warning on this chapter, one 'strong use of profanity' as the movies always say. I unfortunately do not own Criminal minds, but FYI Santa; I've been pretty good this year. Just a hint ;) Enjoy my lovelies!_

**Chapter Nine: In Which Options Are Weighed, and Physics Is Appealing**

_You know, when having a gun held to your head is no longer a particularly unfamiliar situation, it really might be time to think about going job hunting, Spencer. I mean, what's wrong with theoretical physics? Or engineering? Steady work, okay pay, no gun-toting unsubs around every freaking corner… Is now really the time to be considering your career options? I think not. Now stay calm, and ascertain the situation. Because we DEFINITELY have a situation occurring here. _

_Right, so what do we have here? One terrified Garcia. Two bemused shoppers. Three security cameras. One gun. Two employees. Five missing agents, who presence would make this whole issue a hell of a lot easier to deal with._

_Unfortunately, they aren't here. And that means you're going to have to buck up Spencer, and deal with this. Preferably sooner rather than later._

A low snarl interrupted his thoughts.

"Now, I don't want to hurt you. But don't get me wrong ladies and gents, should the need arise, I'm fully prepared to."

Reid couldn't see the man's face, on account of the gun and everything, but he could just imagine the menacing grin that accompanied the languid drawl.

"How many?" He mouthed desperately to Garcia, who looked as though she'd been frozen. Slowly, unnoticeably (unless you were watching for it), she shifted her fingers. One. _Better than two at any rate._

The ghostly pale woman behind the counter spoke out.

"Look, what do you want? Money?"

"You're catching on quick there, darling."

"Okay. Look, I'll empty the till, and we'll just… pretend like this never happened okay? But you have to put the gun away!" Her burst of bravery faltered slightly, and Reid could see her hands shaking, her fingers weighed down with heavy silver rings.

_A robbery. Well, that's not bad news. This doesn't have to end in violence._

"Let's just empty the till darling, and we'll work the rest out later."

Finally, the gun was no longer in contact with his head. Reid stayed very, very, still as the man strolled into his view, gun idly pointed at one of the shoppers. The short lady twisted a stray thread in her sari nervously, a look of disbelief on her face.

Clad in black, he was at least as tall as Reid, but whilst Garcia described her friend (affectionately) as a 'long streak of nothing', the guy was wiry, lean and mean. Slowly and deliberately, he stepped up the counter, transferring the angle of the gun to point directly at the woman behind it.

"Hand me the bag." A look of deep disgust etched on her face, she did, her rings catching the light. His eyes glittered behind the balaclava, and as the unnamed thief reached out to snatch the bag from her, the black turtleneck he had on rode up a little, revealing a tattoo of a dagger on the side of his wrist. It was the jet black of new ink.

Thrusting the money into the rucksack hanging off one arm, the man moved back from the counter, slowly but surely, always keeping the gun steadily trained on someone.

"Just to make this clear to you all… this never happened. Or you never know, I might come back and it might have to not happen again. Clear?" Seeing the nods, he let out a soft laugh.

"Good to know we've got that sorted. Well, what can I say," He continued as he walked down the aisle, "it's been a pleasure-"

Reid took a sharp intake of breath. The intruder had stumbled into Garcia's handbag, abandoned to the floor when the gun had appeared. He had knocked over the purple contraption, much of its contents spilling over the floor. The man stooped, a quickly swiped up something.

"Well… this makes things interesting." With that, he flipped open what Spencer could now clearly identify as Garcia's credentials.

_Fuck. Now we're in trouble._


	11. In Which Telepathy Is Given A Shot

_A/N- I love my reviewers, I love CM, I own nada. Onwards! And remember kiddos, it's always darkest before the dawn._

**Chapter Ten: In Which Telepathy Is Given A Shot**

"So, Agent Garcia," he enunciated carefully. "When _were _you planning on informing me that you're FBI? Not that you look it."

"Look, I'm a technical analyst. I work with computers, not criminals!" Her voice only shook slightly, Reid noted with pride. Penelope was holding it together remarkably well. At the same time, he was attempting to send her telepathic messages. Spencer had never given the idea of telepathy any credence, but damn it if he wasn't willing to give it a try now.

_Don't tell him I'm FBI too. Don't tell him. Your credentials prove you're telling the truth, but mine say supervisory special agent. Do not tell him. Please, Garcia._

"But how do I know you aren't going to run off and tattle on me to all your federal pals? What about your mate over here, the other American. He one of you?"

_Think, think! You've never had too many problems with it before!_

As Reid opened his mouth to answer, with absolutely no idea what to say, Garcia jumped in.

"No. He's my boyfriend, we're on vacation. He works as a, uh, a high school teacher. Physics."

Seeing his window of opportunity while the masked thief focused on Garcia, Reid slowly slipped his badge under a pack of biscuits on the shelf behind him. Just as he moved his hand back down to his side, the man spun around and gave him a once over.

"He does look the type. So really little lady, you're my only problem." The gun was pointed directly at Garcia's chest, and Reid felt sick to his stomach. _What do I do? _

"You don't need to do this… I won't tell!" Her voice quavered more now, and it was excruciating to listen to.

"But you see darling, I don't believe you. I'm going to get this nice lady over here to wipe the tapes for me, and then none of these idiots will have proof that this ever happened. But an FBI agent… they'll take you seriously. You can see where my problem lies, can't you?"

"They won't, we're not even high level. We do grunt work, nothing important!" Realising her mistake, Penelope gaped.

Dark eyes flashed behind the balaclava, and a growl emitted from behind it.

"_WE? _He's in on it too? Oh lady, you lied, and that was your last chance. Sorry sweetheart!" He took a step forward, gun still aimed over her heart.

After that, everything seemed to happen in both an instant and an eternity. Reid would remember it that way for the rest of his life. The gun went off with a bang, and he felt himself yelling out incoherently. _Not Garcia. Please, no._


	12. In Which Garcia Remembers

_A/N- Hello! Sorry this is a short one, but this did NOT want to be written, so just this diddy little chapter took long enough. Sorry for all the people I told it would be 'up soon' or 'in the next couple of days'. I fail! Thank you all for reading! There is also a new festive one-shot loitering around my profile starring the good Doctor, as well as a New Years escapade with Elle and Morgan on the way!_

**Chapter Eleven: In Which Garcia Remembers**

Garcia had been shot before, and it wasn't exactly an experience that she desired to repeat. Hence once she was better, and the doctor had given her the all clear, she enrolled in a self defence course.

Of course, finding herself at gunpoint once more made all the lessons slide cleanly from her brain. What were you meant to do in this situation? Great. What an _awesome_ time to be wishing you'd studied harder. _Concentrate woman. What did the instructor say about this?_

Not a moment too soon, a shard of a memory came to her.

_At long range, all you can do is negotiate. At short range, you should-_

The man was finishing his sentence.

"Sorry sweetheart!"

_Now or never then._

As he stepped forward, she willed her hand to unfreeze from her side. _Please. Come on. _

The palm of her hand slammed into the side of the gun, causing it to fire. Thankfully it had also knocked off the aim of his shot, causing the bullet to graze her arm instead of flying into her chest. She could here Reid yelling in the background, but it was almost as though it was through a wall, muffled. Hissing as the pain hit, she quickly took aim and kicked the masked man in the groin whilst he was still in his confused state. He doubled over, and she called out.

"Reid! A little help here?!"

He sprang into action, disarming the felon and using his tie as makeshift handcuffs. _Garcia is so getting all the drinks she wants after this._

The shop assistant fetched the first aid kit, and began dialling 999.

*

Reid's phone trilled in his pocket. He leaned up against one of the hospital pillars, waiting outside whilst Garcia got fixed up inside.

"Hey, Morgan."

"Hey man. Where are you guys? You've been gone for like an hour… You didn't get lost or anything did you?"

"I wish…"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Okay? Anyway, Rossi's jonesing for his smores. Where _are _you two?"

"Funny story actually…"


	13. In Which the Team Take a Ride

_A/N- Wow, last chapter! We made it! :') I am both really happy and actually quite sad to be finishing this. I've had so much fun with it, and it's been so well received. 87 reviews for eleven chapters?? Insane. Well, compared to my other stories anyway! This was the first piece of fic I ever published, so it's my baby. Anyway, I'll let you guys get on with reading, but I just wanted to say thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and especially my board-mates who constantly have to put up with all my crazy shit. ONWARDS, TO THE FINALE! Please review and tell me what you thought, it would mean so much! I'll shut up now._

**Chapter Twelve: In Which the Team Take a Ride**

"Garcia, baby. Would you back up from the door already? Please?"

"Jeez Morgan, why so jumpy? You fly all the time!"

"The jet," Morgan muttered through clenched teeth, "is considerably more substantial than being thrown around in what basically amounts to a glass _bubble_." He was sitting in the middle of the wooden bench, feet pulled up to his chest as though he were afraid to touch the floor.

Reid strolled over to join his friend.

"You can hardly call this being thrown around Morgan; we're travelling at approximately 0.6 miles an hour."

This was met with a snarl, and Reid decided that maybe it was best to leave Morgan to his own devices for a while.

The Thames sprawled beneath them, each side lined with various buildings and landmarks. Being a typical winter's day, a thin grey mist hung in the air, punctuated by various bits of greenery and the scarlet buses making their rounds.

As soon as Reid had told Morgan what had happened on the phone last night, the rest of the team had rushed to the hospital, despite Garcia protesting that she was going to be out in an hour or so anyway. She had been plied with scorchingly bright flowers by Rossi, and everybody had watched with amused smirks as Morgan threatened to do several (anatomically impossible) unpleasant things to her assailant before literally refusing to leave her side until they were back at the hotel. Hotch had nipped out to grab some food for them all, and the team had had a quiet night in.

Today however, was a different matter. Despite everyone informing her that she should take things easy, Garcia had insisted that they have a proper tourist experience. They'd ridden a red double-decker bus, poked around the Natural History Museum, and bought several gifts for Henry and Jack between the seven of them. Now they were taking a spin around the London Eye, much to everyone's (minus Morgan) excitement.

Emily was snapping pictures like there was no tomorrow, whilst Hotch was having Big Ben pointed out to him by JJ. Garcia was relentlessly teasing Morgan. Rossi… Rossi wasn't even looking out at the view. He was just watching them all, a small smile playing around his lips.

Rossi turned to Reid.

"You know, I really thought that last case would break us. It's been one thing after another this year, and I really thought this would be the final straw. We get to leave it all behind for a weekend and one of us gets _shot_ for crying out loud… and we're still standing. I think that's pretty special, don't you?"

Spencer pressed his lips together and nodded. Looking to break the tension, he cleared his throat.

"Did you know that up here, we can see for up to 40 kilometres in every direction?"

Rossi chuckled. "Now which dusty corner of you brain did you pull that one from, Reid?"

"Uh… this leaflet?"

*

Being back in the office on Tuesday was a drag, as they were all jetlagged beyond belief. It had been easy to pick out the BAU members when Garcia had stumbled in this morning, they had all be looking various shades of bedraggled, wrinkled suits they'd had no time to iron and bags the size of their suitcases under their eyes. Lord knows, she'd nearly forgotten to put on her clothes before she went out this morning.

Needless to say, she thought they all deserved a bit of a smile. Pulling up her email account, she quickly tapped out her message, attached a few files, and sent it to the team. Well, almost. As she was about to hit 'send', she realised she'd forgotten a subject line. Easily solved.

**Subject: **Reid works it, catwalk style ;)

Garcia leaned back and smiled.

_Going away is great and all, but there's just no place like home._

With that she clicked the heels of her ruby red shoes, and sent the message.

*The End*


End file.
